Origins
by LilDemonWarrior
Summary: Chapter seven is up! Still looking for a master, Roy finds himself on the Hawkeye's doorstep, reuniting with someone he thought he'd never meet again.  Pre-manga Roy/Riza. Rated T for mild langage.
1. Prologue

**DISCLAIMER: Owning FullMetal Alchemist? Me? No, sorry.**

**Author's note:**

**Why hello there! This is my first time on ****, so I'm still struggling with the controls and stuff, but hey xD I'd really appreciate it if you took the time to review and give some constructive comments, mostly because English isn't my mother tongue and I want to be sure I have done everything properly. So here it is, enjoy !**

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**PROLOGUE**

A light frown appeared on the child's face as he gave a disappointed stare to the fireplace right before him. The fire that was burning in it died just a minute ago. He wanted to see some more pretty lights, so why was it only ashes? He turned around to seek an answer from either of his parents, but went unnoticed as they continued their conversation.

"Is it really necessary, Bill?" asked a soft, feminine voice. A snigger was the only answer she got. "Bill?"

The boy tilted his head a little, trying to guess what it was all about. Despite his young age, he had noticed the unusual clothing his mother dressed him in: the fabric was kind of itchy and not as comfortable as the pyjamas he was used too. Even the dress she wore seemed brighter, more colourful than the modest ankle-length skirts she'd normally put on.

"Oh yes, it is, Yu!" finally replied the so-called Bill as he turned around to face his wife with what could be the largest smile of all Amestris. "Because..."

A flash of eagerness passed in his eyes as he announced in a deep, serious tone:

"I have gotten myself a promotio-o-o-o-on!"

He now had his arms wide open, almost like he was waiting for her to rush into it. All he could get, tough, was a clearly unimpressed stare.

"Am I supposed to suddenly understand why does it imply a photograph coming over in ten minutes without any previous warning? Dang, William - you _know_ I hate those!"

"Then I shall explain myself more clearly: I've been promoted to Central, which means we'll have to move there in the following week! I know it's a bit rushed, but everything's already planned: they have found a _nice little _house for us to stay; I can now pay all our debts with the _nice little _amount of money they gave me and I have a _nice_ _little_ older sister who can babysit the kid until we are ready to move in! But there's no doubt that the best lies in the _nice little _photograph that we are going to take of our _nice little_ family for our last _nice little _day here!"

He had talked in such a happy, good-hearted way that she could not help but smile a bit, and he knew from it that everything would be fine-just like it had always been. Even if he was being a last-minute planner, "_nice little" _over user and sometimes just a plain pain in the neck, she did - sadly, sometimes - love her husband the way he was. It was only then that she noticed the majorly confused face of the nearly two year old kid standing by the fireplace, his eyes slowly moving from one parent to another. With all this, he had completely forgotten about the disappointing ashes. Another snigger came from Bill as he bent down next to his son in order to cheer him up.

"Why the long face, lil' chap?" he asked while proceeding to pull on the child's cheek, giving him one weird forced smile. "No worries, we weren't fighting. We'll be taking a picture soon though, so you'll have to give the camera a biiiig toothy smile. Understood?"

The boy gave a nod.

"_Now _that's more like it, son!" roared Bill with what sounded like a weird mixture of fierce pride and playfulness. He then took the kid in his arms without ever letting go of his cheek, leaving the world wondering how the heck he did so. As seconds passed tough, the child started to get impatient.

"Oooww! Daddy!" he whined.

Bill only chuckled before letting go. He then turned to his wife who was watching them carefully, eyebrows raised and the hint of a smirk on her lips. At the very moment he felt like he was going to say something pretty damn smart, someone knocked on the door. He put his son in Yu's arms before answering it.

"Excuse me good sir, but am I at William Michael Mustang's place?" asked an old, crumpled, but smiling man holding a camera. "Dean Hadler. I'm the photographer they asked for."

"Indeed you are!" answered Bill as he put the door wide open. "We've been waiting for you - here, let me introduce you my wife, Yu, and my son, Roy."

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**Thanks for reading =D Hope you enjoyed !**

**-LilDemonWarrior**


	2. The Photograph

**DISCLAIMER : Me do not owns FullMetal Alchemist and never will.**

**Author's note:**

**Here comes the first chapter folks ! I honestly cannot tell how often I will be able to update with school projects and stuff, but for now I'll be writting a few chapters here and there, hoping it pleases you. So here it is, enjoy ! And remember : reviews are always appreciated**.

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**CHAPTER TWO : THE PHOTOGRAPH**

Roy Mustang was rubbing his hands together with a satisfied, mischievous expression on his face, for he was finally getting his newest and most evil plan in action: breaking into the attic. It maybe would have seemed like a plain, uninteresting plan for any other kid, but there was something so utterly attracting about that old dusty room that he couldn't help but think of himself as a freaking genius while tracing his transmutation circle, especially since he had the feeling that it would deliver all of Madame Christmas' darkest secrets. He had deeply considered it last night: if entering it was forbidden to him by the very woman who ran a bar with drunkards and strip dancers right before his eight years old eyes, then it just had to be hiding the biggest secret ever.

He had tiptoed out of his bedroom after curfew –which just made his expedition even more exciting, he thought-, being very careful not to be noticed as he slipped upstairs with a piece of chalk in his hands. He then proceeded to climb the stepladder that gave on the room he wished to attain and started using his basic alchemist knowledge at his service. Erasing a bit of the imprecise circle with his thumb, he then added a rough line to correct it, wishing with all his heart that it would not ruin the whole thing.

Finally satisfied, the boy put both his hands on the circle to activate it. The wood carved itself to reveal a big enough hole for him to put his hand through, and then remove the padlock-like thing that once kept him from entering the forbidden place. His smirk only grew larger as he heard a faint "thud", confirming that everything has gone just as planned. He pushed the somewhat heavy panel to enter the attic with the sound of his heartbeat increasing in his chest.

The room was wide, with wooden walls and floor and a bunch of what seemed like old carton boxes covering the ground on the sides. It was hard to tell, though: it was so covered in dust; Roy first thought that the floor was actually there was some kind of greyish fluff all over the floor. He congratulated himself for wearing slippers: the dirt sticking to them would be more easily disposed of than if he had only socks on. The child started to look around, opening some of the boxes, lifting them to see whether something was hidden underneath them, but after a few minutes of searching, started to get seriously disappointed.

"Atchoo!"

He sneezed quite loudly, unable to keep it anymore with all this dust. As he was starting to consider going back to his room and pretending this never happened, something caught his eye. Something pinned on what seemed to be a bulletin board. A big enough photograph. He raised his eyebrows. Why wasn't it with all the other ones, on the wall next to the stairs? Growing more and more curious, he tilted his head to one side as he gently removed the spider webs that kept him from seeing the picture clearly. Roy frowned as he saw nothing more than a Xingese woman he didn't recall seeing, even though she did ring a bell… His eyes grew wider as he next discovered a man whom he had never seen before, and finally, the smiling face of a happy looking infant. His mouth opened as understanding flashed through his mind like a bolt.

* * *

There was a loud, somehow cheerful knock on the door. Chris Mustang raised her eyes from her half-smoked cigarette, looking tired. She really didn't feel like talking to anyone right now… Maybe she should just pretend not being there and close the curtains. Her thoughts apparently weren't taken in consideration since the knocking started again, accompanied by a voice that didn't let itself being taken for wind:

"Guess whoooooooo!"

She threw the rest of her cigarette in the ashtray, a resigned pout on her face, before answering the door. She didn't fail to notice the cleanly cut brown hair, the loose shirt and somewhat appropriate pants. Taking after their father, he had always been a pretty handsome guy with vivid eyes, a smart mouth and a smile that infected everybody catching a glimpse of it. Only a few years ago though, he would have come to her door unshaven, wearing a dirty t-shirt and torn pants, a cap covering the hair he reluctantly had to keep short.

"Why, isn't it annoying little William Michael," she grumbled as his trademark cheeky smirk turned into a scowl.

"You know I hate being called that long, ungraceful name, you mean sister! I'm Bill. _Bill,_ understood?" he retorted, putting a strong emphasis on his nickname. "My wife's name is Yu, we named our son Roy, and if we had a dog, it would be called Rex! I like names short and sweet. Why does everybody keep forgetting that?"

"Yeah, whatever, _Bill_. You'll always remain William Michael in my heart and soul." she mused with what sounded like amusement. "Jokes apart, you look quite cleaner than you would have normally. The military did wonders to you... or is it that your wife's the one deciding how you should look?"

"Despite how tempting it may seem, I didn't come here to chat about my looks, Chris. In fact, I need to ask you a favour."

"Hmmm." His sister started glancing at the whiskey bottle on the table behind her. "Shall I invite you in, then?"

"That would be much appreciated, yeah. But no drinks for me: I need to get back in one piece, see…"

* * *

The knock on her door sounded awfully familiar to Madame Christmas. However, she noticed with a wince, those sounded more on the angry side than anything. What in the world had the boy been up too? Couldn't she at least have her only day off of the week nice and easy? She took a long drag from her cigarette in order to calm herself down.

"Come in!" she called, already tired.

To her greatest surprise, no exasperated adult accompanied the young boy that entered the room, an uncharacteristic grimace bringing his normally innocent traits down.

"What the…?" she sighed. "Listen up, Roy-boy. I don't have time for foolishness. So if you'd be as kind as going back to your bed and sleep like any normal kid should…"

"_Any normal kid_…" he almost spat while throwing an old paper on the table. "Any normal kid would have seen that kind of picture before today! Why, _WHY_ have you always told me you didn't share any bound with my parents and never inherited anything about them!"

She lowered her gaze, starting to get curious about what all this fuss was about. After thinking about it later, Madame Christmas still couldn't find the right words to express the feeling that overwhelmed her at this very moment.

"How have you gotten your hands on this?" she snapped, forgetting to keep her legendary temper. "Speak up, child!"

"Broke into the attic," he hissed trough gritted teeth. Something like fire was dancing in his eyes. "You should hide your things better if you don't want me to get my hands on it without even wanting to."

"The panel was locked. I doubt you were able to-"

"Alchemy," Roy simply replied while displaying the piece of chalk, which he also dropped on the table.

"Looks like I should've kept those books away from you, too," Christmas pointed out, annoyed. "But that's not what you want to hear about, is it?"

"Wasn't I clear enough?"

She had never heard him speaking with such an impertinent tone. He truly _was_ angry… She couldn't blame him, though. Pouring herself a glass of brandy before getting into the task of explaining herself, the woman finally looked at her nephew square in the eyes.

"Alright then, I guess I _do _earn you some explanations. BUT-" she pointed an accusing finger at him before he could even think about slipping an annoyed comment. "That also means you'll have to listen without interrupting, no matter how angry you are. Do we have a deal?"

The child looked away, an irritated expression on his face.

"Deal," he ended up saying. His expression was still fierce, but something in his composure told his aunt that he was now carefully listening. She took a deep breath before saying anything.

"That picture was taken the day you and your parents left East City for Central. He had gotten a promotion and felt like celebrating it by immortalizing the moment. I know it's not the kind of details that might interest you," she went out even though his face said otherwise, "but the result is the same: I didn't tell you any of this back then because I didn't want you to live in the past and spend all your life crying over what-ifs. You may think it is a stupid excuse-"

"It is," he couldn't help but reply cheekily.

"Haven't we made a deal?" she reminded him, and he felt silent. "Anyhow. I've seen and heard too many people doing nothing but complaining about the drama in their lives to let my nephew become one of them. By keeping those pictures away from you, I hoped that you would become a whole person yourself, not one of those lost orphan boys who try to resemble their forever gone parents. Neither did I wanted you to cherish such foolish ideas such as making them come back from the dead if you became too infatuated with the way you portrayed them. I wanted you to become a fully independent and one hundred percent authentic Roy Mustang. As far as I know, that's what your father would have wished.

"Your ability at alchemy is a good example of this. My brother was more of an action man than anything, and your mother could only cure small wounds using alkahestry as part of being a housewife. Would I have told that to you, you'd probably have thought highly of it and never tried."

The boy was now looking at his feet. She sure made a point, but at the same time, he couldn't help but lurk for more information about the ones who would've raised him if it hadn't been of that fatal train wreck –for he at least knew as much of the way they died-. It took him all his courage to look at her in the eyes and say:

"Could I ask you some more questions about them eventually if I promise I won't rely on it too much?"

That night, despite everything he had promised, Roy couldn't help but look at himself in the mirror with the picture right next to him. Giving his best smirk, he noticed it was only a few details away from looking exactly the same as Bill Mustang's. He would then try to perfect it for a couple of weeks, until he was satisfied with it. He never noticed the half-amused, half-exasperated eyes that watched him as he did so.

* * *

"Babysitting the Roy-boy? Again? So that is why you came all the way to East City…"

"Ah, come on, Chris. It's been nearly two years since I last asked…" Bill whined with the best puppy eyes he could make up. "I just got promoted as a Warrant Officer and will be assigned to the East Headquarters –with a high chance of staying there for the biggest part of my life-, but first we need to get our things into our new house. Besides, it's only for a couple of days. Please?"

"I'm not sure if it's a good idea or not. Need to do some… overtime at the bar if I want to be kept..."

There was a long silence, eventually broken from a snort. Bill had easily noticed his sister's avoidant gaze, not mentioning her suddenly crisped expression.

"Overtime, is that it? Are your clients still calling you Christmas or have you finally realised that you're worth more than being treated like a piece of trash?"

"That's not the point at all, Bill. I need the money. How will I take care of Katarina if there's no solid income?"

"Speaking of your daughter… it's bad enough that she doesn't have a father, she should at least have ONE good role-model to look up to! I didn't give you all my salary from being a doorman back in the days only to come to _this_! Dang it, Chris! You've made it co-owner of that stupid bar! That was supposed to help you get more proper wor-"

"Life doesn't work that way apparently…"

"Then why don't you start your own business, then? You could own some cleaner place where you wouldn't have to do all the dirty stuff… or without any dirty stuff, where you could finally let go of the creepy nickname."

"Not a bad idea. But hey, I like the Christmas name. I'm the one who came up with it after all…"

"Have them call you _Madame_ Christmas if that's what you wish, I don't care, but gain some damn respect!"

Chris' face had gone dreamy.

"I could. I might consider it, in fact…" a smile formed on her lips. "And I'll see what I can do for your son. It's not like he's any trouble at all…"

"Thanks." Bill sounded both hesitant and relieved. "For the kid, I mean…"

"No, it's nothing. I'm the one thanking you." she replied, her voice barely more than a whisper.

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**Thanks for reading ! Will introduce Riza next chapter... dun dun duuuun. =D See ya!**

**-LilDemonWarrior**


	3. The Quack, the Ghost and the Crow

**Disclaimer: I don't own FMA. But I _do_ own Bill Mustang, though. Mwa ha ha ha ha!**

**Author's note :**

**So yeap, here's the third chapter. -Didn't know how to call it, therefore ended up with weird title, teehee- I'm not as satisfied with it as I was for the Prologue and actual first chapter, but I think it was needed so I could introduce a few characters that are going to have a bigger role in upcomming chapters. Remember to review if you have the time - and if you think it's worthy enough, don't be shy to spread the love!**

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**CHAPTER THREE : The Quack, the Ghost and the Crow**

"Wow! You can _actually__ do_ that kind of stuff?"

The marvelled young eyes that followed the wannabe alchemist's every single move only contributed to make his smile grow wider by the second.

"It's not just _that kind of stuff,_" he responded, giving the audience a knowing wink. "It's called alchemy."

"Stuff, alchemy, it doesn't matter! It's frigging awesome!" roared Benton, a much impressionable boy who lived down the street.

A snigger escaped Roy's mouth as he stood watching the scene from afar. Even him, who wasn't exactly a prodigy, could tell that this stupid show-off was nothing more than a quack. For a change, Pier Chomsky, twelve years old and enough arrogance to fill a whole stadium, was trying to get all the attention, this time by pretending that his cheap magic trick was complex alchemy. The bored boy lifted his eyes to stare at the local library's entrance out of boredom, wondering how long he should wait before interrupting.

They fell on the face of a young girl. She was probably about his age, or maybe a tad younger for what he could tell. He had often heard other kids from the street calling her "the library freak" while describing how she daily stood still before the gigantic building without ever talking to anyone. It wasn't the first time he saw her; however, he had never taken the time to really detail her before. He noticed the short blonde hair, cut a little above the shoulders, the sharp look in her brown eyes, the way she was leaning against the wall like she had been waiting at the door for a little while already, and finally, he took notice of her expression.

The child raised his eyebrows as he noted how perfectly it seemed to mirror his own thoughts about the scene –a gentle frown that showed a clearly not impressed mind. Somehow, it seemed like she knew as well as him that Pier was only showing off. They locked eyes.

"_What a total dumbass."_ He rolled his eyes while keeping his smirk on.

"_You said it."_ She raised her eyebrows a little with her lips slightly curving into a smile before getting back to their initial state.

No words were exchanged since they were too far from each other, but it wasn't needed anyways. Both their gaze fell on the poor cheater once again. Roy watched him enjoying his precious time in the spotlight, wondering how he should break in. At ten years old, he knew better than being jealous of someone getting more attention than him, but still felt angered at the way a powerful science like alchemy was so cheaply made fun of. He pondered over it for a moment before slowly making his way through the crowd of amazed eyes.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your little performance, Pier, but I truly am wondering how you can transmute cards out of nowhere without an array," he stated while faking interest.

"I _do_ have an array, Mustang," the quack answered while pointing at the rhombus with nonsense scribbling he drew on the ground. He cocked an eyebrow as laughs started to burst from the small audience. "'Seems like someone doesn't know what he's talking about."

Roy took all his time letting out a sigh and scratching his head thoughtfully. After a couple of minutes pretending to be wondering whether or not he should break the charm, he answered matter-of-factly: "Well… I thought anyone brilliant enough knew that transmutation circles actually _were_ circles."

The previously heard laughing stopped dead. From the glance he shot at the library's doorstep, the raven haired boy could tell the girl was still watching, probably as satisfied as him to see the blank expression on the older child's face. The kids in the audience started looking at each other in astonishment; some of them wondering whose side they should take, others only being eager to see who would win the argument. Now that Mustang was the one with the wide grin, Pier was simply dumbfounded. How could he have been such a frigging idiot? He meant to overpower the alchemic freak in popularity, not to drown his own. For the first couple of seconds, a loud gulp was all he could make out.

"What's wrong with it? Maybe it's only a more advanced level of alchemy you've never heard about," he finally darted back, his voice sounding little more powerful than a whisper.

"Well, what I know is that you are a whole new level of idiocy I've never heard about before," responded Roy while raising his eyebrows into a totally unimpressed expression.

The crowd was now following every one of their moves like a spectator waiting for the lion to take a bite of his prey, chuckling and whistling at the older one's foolishness and the younger one's assurance. The quack was searching for a way to scram without looking like a total pea soup when a hoarse, unmelodious voice he recognized as his sister's yelled loudly:

"PIER! I TOLD YOU NOT TO FOOL AROUND WITH MY TRICKED CARD GAME! NOW GIVE IT BACK, YOU RASCAL!"

The crowd broke into an uncontrollable giggle while the said Pier ran away as fast as he could, his face turned purple with anger and humiliation. The other boy waved at him cheekily before raising his eyes to the library's doorstep. The figure that stood there a moment ago was gone without anybody seeming to care or notice. Just like a ghost would've stepped back in the shadows.

That day, Roy Mustang remembered to himself many years later, marked his first real encounter with Riza Hawkeye.

* * *

Bill Mustang, Madame Christmas recalled, had always known how to get people into the wildest crack jokes of all Amestris. There was something about the guy that kept anybody from holding a grudge against him –not for that kind of things, anyways- and since he absolutely _wasn't_ the kind of man to take advantage of it, he could be either a real blast… or a total pain in the ass. The list of his mischiefs went on and on, and Roy _loved_ when his aunt told him about some of them before bedtime. The daily story was an agreement they had come upon. At first she had refused, thinking that it would give him bad ideas, but she realized soon enough that her nephew didn't need to be told how to. It was an innate gift. And it was both a real blast and a total pain in the ass.

That was part of why, when she was babysitting the boy all those years ago, she never realized something could be wrong with the fact Bill didn't come to get his son back. Clearly, he was only trying to see how long she could resist with two kids to take care of.

"I should be coming to get him soon." He had told her over the phone with what she could tell was amusement disguised into caring. "Think you can hold on a bit more?"

She would've maybe taken him seriously if she hadn't heard Yu claiming that he would get punched in the face for this one day in the background. It had been two days. The telephone kept ringing the following days, but she decided not to answer his teasing calls anymore. The first one was bad enough.

She was doing fine: Roy was much easier to babysit than his idiot of a father used to be. Chris remembered thinking about how persistent they were not to come. Even if she wasn't much surprised about Bill's stubbornness, she did think Yu would have ended up lecturing him about it.

Two more days had passed before someone knocked on the door. She smiled to herself. "Clearly, he had had enough waiting. I beat him this time", she thought with a hint of triumph in her heart. But the man who stood at her doorstep wasn't the worst comedian the world had ever known. It was a dead serious man in a dead serious police uniform. With a dead serious look on his face that could only come with dead serious bad news.

"Am I at Chris Mustang's?" he asked while his eyes went from her face to the two joyful kids that played with miniature racing cars in the background. He waited for her to nod before continuing. "I am Fredeirich Stevens, police officer. Without wanting to be impolite, I'd suggest you to allow me to enter. We should maybe take a seat in the dining room, too. It may take time."

His eyes narrowed upon seeing that she didn't seem to be in the mood to obey.

"I have no time for foolishness, madam. I am here on Chief Warrant Officer William Michael Mustang's case and doubt you would want complications."

The latest words woke her up from her reverie. "I'm afraid you made a mistake, sir. My brother is Warrant Officer, plain. He made it a few weeks ago, there's no way his rank-"

"Have you never heard of the posthumous honours the military often gives?" the police officer asked, slightly surprised in spite of him.

For Chris, the floor disappeared from under her feet. She would have sunk to her knees if Mr. Stevens, realizing she wasn't aware of her brother's tragic death, didn't catch hold of her. When she was finally able to listen to him, and now one hundred pour cent sure that she wasn't involved in it, he thoroughly told her the story around her brother's death. He told her about the train he had taken to travel back to East City along with his wife and all the coworkers –including Lieutenant Colonel Stewards, his superior- that also had to pack a few things up before settling up in Central City, the anti-military terrorist group that was under suspicion and everything she asked about. He noticed the terrified look on the girl's face and the questioning look on the boy's face, but assumed they were too young to remember or even understand.

Those who knew Chris Mustang before that fateful day all agreed over the fact that she had never been the same.

* * *

"What're you doing, Roy-boy?" a clear voice asked while peeking in the child's bedroom.

"Huh- nothing," he answered before hiding whatever he was holding below his pillow. This did not escape the swift eyes of Katarina Mustang.

"Picture?" the slightly older girl asked. She sat on his bed with a much too interested look on her face. "Why are you hiding it? Is it a photo of your girlfriend?"

He had been looking at it for the last ten minutes, as if it held the answer to a question deeply buried in his mind. She had seen him while going to her own room and didn't resist to the temptation to tease him.

"Stop bugging me with it!" Roy groaned angrily. "I already told you I didn't have a girlfriend, no matter how hard you try matching me!" Seeing she wasn't satisfied by his answer, he sighed before sheepishly handing over the photography. "Here, happy?"

"Oh," she said upon seeing to picture, visibly disappointed. "No girlfriend, then. How come do you own a picture of Uncle Bill and Auntie Yu?"

"Maybe you could consider the fact that they're my parents and that I also am on the said picture, duh," he answered in a plainly annoyed voice. "Wai- how could you recognize them so easily? You were barely older than I was when they died."

"Oh, right. I tend to forget you're my cousin. Dang, you looked so babyish!" she giggled. The girl reached for his cheek and started playfully pulling on it, highly amused by his exasperate expression.

"Doesn't answer my question."

"I was old enough to remember the only person who came to visit us," she pointed out before giving him his precious belonging back. "Why were you so deep in thought if not thinking about a girl, then? Pier's been bothering you again?"

He didn't fail to notice her swift change of subject and the sudden wetness in her eyes. Maybe his father represented more to her than what he first expected.

"Imbeciles hiding from their shadows are no bother for me."

"Still… be careful. You know how he is. He won't shut up about taking revenge one day."

"Well, I'm eager to see that…" Roy sniggered while putting both his hand behind his head. "And I'd get that worried expression off my face if I was you. The old crumpled lady says it gives wrinkles. Seeing her face, you can tell she knows what she's talking about."

"That's my mother you're talking about!" Katarina exploded.

"Oh, right. I tend to forget."

The warning glance he got only made him chuckle even more.

"You definitely need to work on your sarcasm if you want to get yourself a girlfriend one day," she groaned while fully knowing that his face was already a good enough reason for most girls to forget about such a detail.

"Like I care!" he retorted. "The girls I know are waay to emotional. They are only interested with their hair, their dolls and don't even know how to play cool games. Have you ever seen one firing a gun properly?"

"They're not guns, they're toy guns," she sighed before such immaturity. Katarina Mustang knew her cousin too well to tell his actual ranting from the times he wanted to be left alone. She stood up and walked out of the room. "Now you can be sure I'll never leave you alone if I ever hear about a girl matching your criteria. 'Night, Roy-boy."

"Whatever."

Roy closed the door as soon as his cousin stepped out of his bedroom. At last, he was sure he wouldn't get disturbed. He then proceeded to take the photography from his pillow and started telling his parents about his day, vaguely wondering the opinion they'd have of him I they were still there.

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**What do you say, folks ? Please review if you like it - and if you don't, please be as kind as explaining me why. Hope you enjoyed!**

**-LilDemonWarrior**


	4. Before the Grave  Part I

**DISCLAIMER: If you're looking for Arakawa, I'm afraid you're at the wrong place. I'm not the one owning FullMetal Alchemist.**

**Author's Note:**

**Here comes chapter three. Before you folks read it, I'd like to point out that since DisasterGirl (whom I thank if I haven't already, by the way), I haven't received any review.**

**I'm putting a lot of efforts and time into that story. Time that could be spent on other things. Not that I don't like writting it; but I might just keep it to myself if nobody is reading it. I know a couple have added Origins to their alert list, and I warmly thank them for it. But anyways. I just don't know how often I'll keep uploading.**

**I hope you'll enjoy chapter three!**

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**CHAPTER FOUR: BEFORE THE GRAVE, PART I**

Passers-by wouldn't forget that day. A boy sat happily in front of two gravestones as they stared, oblivious of their hushing. The scene was weird enough like that, they'd say. So why was he making it creepy by chit-chatting cheerfully with his invisible friends? Some would then add; this in inappropriate. He should keep silence for those who mourned the loss of the ones they loved. But apparently, Roy Mustang wasn't one to care for acting oddly.

He took a deep breath, welcoming the cold afternoon air that filled his lungs. Contrarily to other people, graveyards didn't put him in a gloomy mood. He managed to enjoy the smell of freshly cut grass, the matt brightness of the marble, and above all, the calm feeling he got when sitting on the ground and gazing at the flowers he had deposited in front of the his parents' graves.

To most people, calm and graveyards were a contradiction in themselves, but to him, it represented the only place where he could really address his parents. And because of an old, childish belief of his, it had to be in a cheerful, pleasant way so they would not feel worried about him and rest in the most peaceful way possible.

Roy stretched his arms lazily, wondering if he had gone past his usual visiting time. He took a glance at his wrist and grimaced as he noticed his aunt would be lecturing him again when he got back.

"Sorry, mom, dad, but I'll have to leave if I want to be allowed back here again sometime. See ya!"

The boy absently trotted his way out of the graveyard, but as he almost had reached the exit, a familiar figure kept him from taking another step forward. He headed back into the stone labyrinth, a light smile making his way to his lips.

"Hi."

He couldn't blame the young girl for jumping upon hearing his voice.

"I didn't mean it, really." he assured.

She stared at him for a moment, pondering whether or not she should trust him. Seeing his hands raised in a defensive but clearly open-hearted way, she decided against her former intention of repelling him.

"It is alright." she answered, her eyes moving back to the sober grave before her. Almost to plain, the only thing written on it was a name and a date. The letter's painting had almost washed away. Luckily enough, they were carved into the stone.

Roy seemed lost in thought for a moment before finally asking, in his softest tone: "Who is there?"

"My mother." Her eyes didn't look away from stone, but he could guess the sudden stiffness in her expression.

"I'm sorry," he then continued, only half wondering if he was going too far, "Might not be of my business, but for what I know, I think she feels lonely."

The look he got from her informed him that she was probably considering his mental health.

"I mean, I've seen you from afar, and you're not even talking to her. _I_ talk to my parents whenever I have the chance."

"A decomposed corpse doesn't chat a lot, though."

"Tell them. If you want a proof, they're only two rows away."

Not matter how she scanned through the rows around them, the closest visitors where easily ten rows away. Her gaze fell on the grinning boy behind her. Without even realizing it, her expression mirrored his, which brought a glimpse of amusement to his deep onyx eyes.

"Roy Mustang," he said, presenting his hand like he knew an adult would do.

"Call me Riza", she answered softly, hesitating to shake his hand for a moment. His trademark smirk ended up convincing her.

Even though Madame Christmas first intended to have a word with her foster son about the way he kept showing up late at home, the boy's tale about his now regular encounters with that Riza girl made her reconsider. From what she could tell through his stories, he seemed to have some kind of soothing power over her, and although she wouldn't admit it, she was quite pleased that he was on the right track to become something else than a jerk –witch, from her life experiences, was a more than positive outcome for a man-. The disappointment she first felt towards the events that would follow are than comprehensible.

* * *

Afternoon breaks, to Roy and most kids his age, meant before everything else going outside – and play soccer. Since it was one of the easiest games to play and supervise, their teacher, Mrs. Dorothy, strongly encouraged them to spend all the energy they had left on it.

Sadly enough, though, it was almost sure to bring around quarrels between teams. Mostly when Pier and Roy were involved. That one time, the later had just scored while the other was in the goal. It could clearly not end up well. Roy let out a roar of victory and raised both his arms in the air while being cheered on by other kids in his team. Pier, who was seeking an occasion to cause an argument since the last time they clashed, pushed him violently. Thankfully, for the bully at least, the referee (aka Mrs. Dorothy) hadn't seen it.

"What the hell was that for?" the younger one growled in unison with a couple of his teammates.

"It flew past my head, it doesn't count!"

"It still was IN the goal, tough. You need glasses, Chomsky."

"I saw well enough and I'm still saying it was too high!"

"Go and tell Mrs. Dorothy, than."

"Whatever you say, Mustang." he hissed, his eyes reduced to slits. "Couldn't resist at the temptation to show off, could you? It's in the family, I think. Just look at your piggy aunt: thinking she's gorgeous enough to hold a poor excuse for a bar. Didn't your parents teach you it's impolite to boast?"

Pier noticed his clenching fists with satisfaction. He was finally getting somewhere.

"Shut up. _Now_."

"Well, well. Seems like you've got a soft spot, huh? We never see your mommy and daddy around. Are they so ashamed of themselves that they can only send their son in his auntie's lap?" Pier let out a nasty laugh before continuing. "What are they, Roy-boy? Garbage men?"

This felt like gasoline put on fire for Roy. His fists itched madly as anger boiled in his veins like venom, threatening to make him loose control at any minute. He didn't even hear what Chomsky added when he turned around to diminish his parents even more, causing children to either laugh at the crunchy scoops or looking at themselves in disagreement. Only then did Mrs. Dorothy seem to wake from her reverie.

Everything was put into slow motion. The boy could imagine Pier falling on the ground after being punched in the face so clearly. It would be so easy. He wasn't even looking. The feeling of flesh on knuckles. Only a few steps away. Before he could tell the dream from reality, he was sitting on top of his schoolmate, his fist a few inches from collapsing into his face again.

"I TOLD YOU TO SHUT UP, YOU FUCKING MORON!" Roy yelled at the top of his lungs.

* * *

**Please remember: review soothens an author's hearth. :3 Yes, it is indeed a very non subtle subliminal message. Review. Please ?**

**- LilDemonWarrior**


	5. Before the Grave Part II

**DISCLAIMER: I have yet to buy FMA. Still ain't the one owning it.**

**Author's Note:**

**Why, hello thar :3 **

**First I want to thank you all for your kind reviews. I really didn't want to sound like a whining rotten child last time, but I really was wondering if people read it for real or just opened the window, said "Wow that sucks" and went back to the menu... if that's how it's called. Anyways. xD**

**Some replies to some reviews:**

**FirstMoon : Well, actually, I assumed Mustang was from the East because he told Armstrong (after Maria Ross was "killed") : "You should go on vacations in the East, where I'm from." But maybe I'm just mixed up too.**

**Firebirdie : Ton français n'est pas si mauvais, en fait. ^^**

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE : BEFORE THE GRAVE, PART II**

"I hope you have a _very_ good reason for your behaviour, Roy Mustang."

Mrs. Dorothy stood looking at the boy with hands on her hips, looking everything but pleased. As for him, he sat still on a chair, looking everything but sorry. The teacher let out a long sigh before resting her hand on her forehead. She had gotten nothing but scowls and growls from the questions she had been asking him for the previous ten minutes. Hopefully, his aunt –the adult responsible for him as far as she knew - would be there in any minute now.

As if summoned by her thoughts, a knock on the door confirmed the presence of the said aunt.

"Finally," Mrs. Dorothy muttered under her breath.

A strong smell of perfume tickled her nose as Madame Christmas entered the room, not without slamming the poor wooden panel so hard it threatened to break. Only when eyes that could kill fell on her did she realize that she had jerked two steps away from the sudden intruder.

"Hum, good afternoon, Mrs. Mustang," she began in a shivering voice. "As I told you earlie-"

"Now you _better_ have some damn good explanation about this whole thing, Roy-boy!" the bar tender hissed through gritted teeth.

"Especially since every conflict can be solved through talking and listening, "Mrs. Dorothy started in an uncertain tone.

It at first looked like she was about to go for a long speech about comprehension and tolerance, but Christmas cut in without even pretending to have heard her.

"I have been called because you had been hurt in a fight. I am very, very disappointed, Roy-boy. Haven't I made it clear long ago that if you ever were to get in trouble, you'd better beat the hell out of that bastard?"

The sight of this woman was so frightening that the teacher caught herself feeling guilty about having lectured her student a few minutes earlier. She was surprised –no, impressed- at how the kid stood up with his arms firmly folded against his chest.

"He got two broken teeth and a black eye!" the boy shouted back as if being seriously insulted. "He barely scratched me, and he's two years older!"

"Th-that's not the point, if you ask me," the completely startled teacher tried to explain. "Pier -the poor kid- had to go to the hospital for a check-up. I'm afraid your nephew might get expelled for such misbehaviour…"

"Two broken teeth? That's a big toll to pay for quarrelling in a school yard." The rather imposing woman wasn't going to buy it so easily.

"Alright, alright, one was already half-rotten from a cavity or I don't know what, and it helped the second one out. But I still gave him a freaking good-enough black eye!"

Madame Christmas scrupulously examined her nephew from head to toe. Even though is hair was a mess and his clothes were covered in dirt, he didn't look that hurt, after all. "Alright. Let's say I believe you. What happened for you to get so mad?"

"That filthy bastard-"The glance his teacher gave him kept him from continuing. "Pier, then, but it's a synonym if you ask me- insulted me. And you. And mom and dad, too."

Chris' gaze lost its focus as she considered the situation for a moment. Although it had been proved that Roy could be of a short temper when insulted, he wasn't one to make a big fuss out of nothing. At least no seriously like that.

"What was his name again?" she asked with a frown.

"Truly, Aunt Chris, his name isn't important. He's the stupid moron who tried bullying Katarina and me a few times before. I doubt he will dare to look at me again, though." There was some kind of fierce defiance in the boy's voice.

"Pier. His name is Pier Chomsky," Mrs. Dorothy answered with another glance to her student, glad to finally be able to say something.

Something about the bar tender's countenance snapped. _Chomsky_, she repeated to herself with a grimace. Now that was an unpleasant surprise.

"You should really reconsider the kind of students you allow into your school, Mrs. Dolly."

"It's Dorothy, Madame… and talking about the students allowed in a school where, being a teacher, I don't even have my word to say, I am afraid it is your nephew who's going to be thrown out. He _does_ have some troublesome past, now. But if he apologies to Pier and his family, then maybe-"

Roy made a face. He certainly didn't want to make amend for anything he'd done.

"My nephew," Christmas said in the angrier manner that he had ever heard her talk, "will not apology to anyone, as I suppose he doesn't regret anything. If being allowed into school is a matter, then I guess I will start looking for a new one in the shortest delay. It means the end of my daughter coming here, too."

She turned on her heels and left the room by the door she had almost broken only a few minutes ago. The boy followed hurriedly after her, only looking back for a split-second.

"Good bye then, Mrs. Dorothy. You weren't half bad as a teacher, you know. It's too bad you'll be stuck with the moron."

* * *

Roy didn't dare to say anything until they were home. To speak the truth, he didn't even raise his eyes to meet his aunt's, frequently glancing at him through the car's mirror. He knew way to well she was the kind of person to put on a strong, unbreakable façade whenever people were around. His main fear was that she wouldn't be as comprehensive as she was in front of Mrs. Dorothy. He reached for the door handle with a gulp.

"Tell me, Roy." He froze at the sound of her voice. The quiet, almost imploring tone she used sent cold sweat down his back even more than if she had yelled at him. "What am I going to do with you?"

He pondered about it for a moment, staying as still as if he were made of marble. It was indeed worth the question. There were five elementary schools around town, one of which he had just been kicked out, and four who would frown upon his freshly stained profile. It wouldn't have been half bad if being kicked out of one of those in East City didn't basically mean being thrown out of the local school commission. When facing a trouble-maker son, most parents chose the easiest path to discipline: sending them off to the military. It was cheap and they were sure to get a good enough job, and being pretty sure to be able to break them, they'd accept almost anyone. However, it could hardly be done with a ten years old boy.

"Honestly, I have no idea," Roy sighed before finally daring to push the door. "I'll be at the cemetery, Aunt Chris."

After all these years, it seemed as if life still wasn't about to get friendly with Chris Mustang.

* * *

"… So that's why I'm here before your graves again. Not that I regret beating that poor excuse for a human up, but…" The boy sounded unusually gloomy for a visit he was paying to his parents. "Frankly, the consequences scare me a little."

He had thought about it again. Even if he had probably been one of the brightest kids around since kindergarten, his future looked somewhat clouded now. If they moved to another city, he would probably have a chance to start over without his newly found bad reputation, but he knew way to well that it was out of the question. _Madame Christmas'_ was as praised as a bar could be, and having everyone come back to the start because of him gave the thought a nauseous feel.

"I'm sorry," he spoke in a whisper. "I should have controlled myself, I guess. You two must be pretty damn angry against me. After all the times I've heard Aunt Chris talk about you in such a respectful manner –you're the only one she ever sounds respectful about-, I guess you would've reacted way better than I did. Mom, Dad… what should I do?"

"Weren't you the one telling me I wasn't cheerful enough? You sound like you're going to bawl your eyes out."

Roy jolted up on his feet, looking around with a horrified expression on his face. He shrieked as his eyes met with the amused stare of Riza Hawkeye.

"Heck, Riza! Want me to die of a heart attack? I'm too young for that!" he complained, his sweaty hand clutching the fabric covering his chest.

"Let's say it was a sweet revenge," she mused back as she walked next to him. "Why the mortified speech?"

The boy winced.

"It's kind of a long story, see. By the way, shouldn't you be at school?"

"Shouldn't _you_ be? I have the day off, and therefore the whole afternoon to kill, if that's the matter."

The retort made him frown even more.

"I guess I have no excuse, then."

* * *

"You mean you're going to be sent away for your studies?"

Roy cocked one eyebrow, surprised by the vivacity in her voice. She normally wasn't one to react so strongly. "I guess I will. I mean, nothing has been decided yet, but I cannot have them move so I can have a proper education. Aunt Chris' whole business has its roots here. My acts aren't going to take their toll on someone else then myself." A sad smile made his way to his lips. "It's too bad I probably won't get to see you again."

Riza bit her lip, apparently pondering whether she should say something or not. Her mouth opened so she could speak, but apparently ended up deciding against it since she closed it shut and nodded.

"You know, actually it's no big deal," she said after a long moment of silence, her voice sounding fake. "I have been living in East City for the past few months only because my father had some researches to do in its library. We're heading back to our town tomorrow. I came here wishing to see you so I could bid you my farewell."

"Oh. I see." A light frown clouded his face. "Can I ask you a question? Why is your mother burrowed in East City if you don't even live near?"

"We used to live here, but our house was sent on fire."

"Oh. I see," he repeated while avoiding her eyes. "Well… I guess it is farewell for us, then."

Their eyes met. He presented his hand to her, his mouth shaped into a hollow smirk. She shook it awkwardly. They parted after a split-second hesitation.

"My aunt's going to be mad at me if I don't get home soon. Ciao, "the boy tried to say in a clear tone, running his hand through his black hair.

He walked out of the cemetery, never once turning back to see Riza's sorrowful expression. It felt like she'd just lost the only friend she ever had.

* * *

**Gloominess is gloomy. :O**

**Once again, I hope you're enjoying my story. Please take the time to review, it would be really appreciated! And, more than anything : thanks for reading !**

**-LilDemonWarrior**


	6. A Knock On Destiny's Door

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA. But since yesterday, though, I own a most amazing ACDC pyjama.**

**Author's Note: MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! Sorry I wasn't able to upload lately, but school kept me from doing so. Since exams and reports and labs and all that stuff is done now, I can now present you my -although a bit less entertaining in my opinion- latest chapter! (No, I wasn't even intending to wait until December 25th for dramatic effet. Coincidence, it is.) I'll be answering the reviews you guys left tomorrow, since it's getting a bit late. D:**

**I hope you'll enjoy it! If you have any comment about what you liked to read, what you'd have like to read, what you'd like to read in the future or what you hope you never read, you know what to do. Leave a review! *wink wink***

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX : A KNOCK ON DESTINY'S DOOR**

Head bent down, a lonely woman was stirring a glass of brandy with her finger like it was the most natural thing in the world. It could've been, if she wasn't supposed to be the bartender instead of the nonsense-babbling drunk. She sipped on the amber liquid with a don't-bother-me look on her face, daring anybody to approach. Which someone did.

"Awww, Madame, don't be like that -please, get up and follow me," begged one of her employee for what seemed the hundredth time this afternoon.

A grunt was all she got. Exasperated, she grabbed her boss' arm and forcefully got her into her office under the attentive eyes of the few clients.

"Let me go, Lynne!" Chris managed to say in a slur, thick voice. More or less realizing where she was, she reached for another bottle of alcohol –whiskey, this time-, and tried to fill the glass that was on the table.

"Now that you're here, I shall," sighed the younger woman.

It was now Christmas' time to grab her arm and refusing to let go.

"No, wait. I don't want to be alone anymore." Her voice was nothing more than a murmur. She winced. "And I don't want _them_ to see me like that."

"The kids? Don't worry, they're at home, I looked after that. Since you're too drunk to manage anything, I thought-"

"Bill wouldn't be happy. He wouldn't be happy at all. I'm sure he's mad right now."

Lynne's eyes widened upon hearing her boss' brother name. She had been working under her for a little less than a year, but for what she knew, it was taboo.

"Hm, Madame, "she stiffened, uneasy, "don't say that. Why would he be mad at you-'cept you being drunk, that is-"

The hand that had been clutching to her for dear life now loosened to drop on the table. Lynne grew both curious and ashamed for taking advantage of the situation as she saw Christmas' eyes on the verge of tears.

"I was supposed to take care of Roy… now see what happens. I should've done something. He should still be in school and learning to be a good man. Instead he gets in a fight and… Oh, how would Bill hate me right now…"

"It wasn't your fault. I mean…"

"Yes, it was my fault. 'Always been. He lost his job because of me. He got into the military and died because of me. Now Roy is expelled. I don't want him to go into the military and get killed to…"

"Excuse me, Madame, but I don't see how he lost his job because of you."

"He got in a fight because of me. Like Roy-boy did. Because I complained about that client- Chomsky, I mean. But he was hitting me. He wasn't allowed."

Now all Lynne could manage was listening with her eyes wide enough to cover the whole room. Something was telling her that she should tell the Madame to get some rest and walk away, but she couldn't move a muscle. Not that she would remember it in the morning, anyway. Christmas took a long drag of whiskey, sending a great amount of the liquid running down her chin.

"So Bill told him off. But the client got upset. Started yelling insults. And Bill couldn't take it –that's how he was- so he punched him." She sniffed, tears now making their way down her cheeks along with the alcohol. "Not just one punch, now that I recall. And Chomsky never came back, but Bill lost his job. I bet Chomsky's been telling his son about me. S'why the kid knew. And s'why he provoked Roy. And now Roy lost his school like Bill lost his job. All 'cause of me. As always."

Now frightened to have ventured into forbidden ground a bit the much, Lynne made an excuse and rushed out of the room, troubled by what she had just heard.

* * *

"Aunt Chris, I'm leaving East City so I can study."

A few days later, when Roy Mustang solemnly announced that he intended to leave East City for his studies at only ten years old, he was granted by the loudest laugh Amestris had ever heard.

"And where do you intend to go, Roy-boy?"

Hushing down his protest, Madame Christmas calmly explained to him the meaning of homeschooling. She also pointed out that, despite everything, she wasn't enough of harpy to send him and Katarina away for the sake of her bar. Annoyed that he hadn't thought of it himself, her nephew nodded reluctantly.

For the next two years, he spent most of his days at home, learning his lessons in the morning and having "special classes" in the afternoon.

Those he attended with Katarina as well as his aunt's new employees. There, he learned the true purpose and money income of "Madame Christmas' Bar". The thing is, men became a lot more talkative with a good glass of cognac in their hands and a few pretty ladies around.

He learned to pretend. He learned to lie. But above everything, he learned to remain honest and trustworthy to those who showed themselves honest and trustworthy to him.

At twelve years old, Roy Mustang was able to put the most credible poker face possible. But despite his new ability to leave idiots like Pier having spasms of anger on the ground, he had yet to find the way (or the will) to fool those who were close to him like Katarina or his aunt Chris. Roy had never seen his aunt happy like that. It wasn't about the homeschooling, he soon realized, but had a lot to do with the man who was frequenting her bar more and more often. At first, he was a bit scared of what his hidden intentions could be, but ended up telling himself that Christmas would be more than aware of his possibly even past then the man himself. And after all, that Tim guy wasn't half bad.

Not before those two years had passed did he bring back his desire to leave East City so he could study. After months of reading books about it late at night, he had made up his mind.

* * *

"Are you sure about this, Roy-boy? Becoming an apprentice is serious stuff."

Chris Mustang sat on a chair, a scowl on her face. Even if she had foreseen long ago that Roy, with his idealism, would think that the army would be the perfect place to pursue his dreams of fighting for peace in the country, she was still uneasy with the idea.

"I wouldn't have told you if I wasn't dead serious about it. Besides, if I wait too much, I'm afraid I will not be able to get a State certification at a decent age, "said the child, his eyes shining with determination.

She stroked the edges of her nose in a tired manner. After what happened to Bill, she wasn't one to be so eager about letting the child she considered as her own son running free in some stranger's care. But if it was what he really wanted… After all, she had heard stories about kids becoming apprentices as young as six.

"Why wanting to join the military? There are plenty of other occupations that can make you useful."

"I've made up my mind. There is so much to do with alchemy, and the State Alchemist program is pretty much the best option I can hope for."

Christmas put her elbows on the table, now resting her chin on her hand. Her eyes met his onyx gaze, who didn't look away for a second, still lit up from the inside. His mouth formed a serious line, and she didn't fail to notice how his fists were clenching in expectation.

"Alright," she sighed. "It looks like we'll have to look forward to finding you a teacher, then."

"Awesome!" roared the boy with a wide grin on his face, walking up to her and hugging her tightly in a very unRoyish way.

His aunt let out a muffled laugh before patting his back. It was Katarina who would be saddened to learn that her almost-brother would be leaving. She was quite fond of him, after all.

Yes, Roy Mustang had made up his mind. He would be learning alchemy under a proper master. Except he never thought finding one would be _that_ hard.

* * *

Roy had now been grumbling unintelligible nonsense for the past few minutes. Katarina, more than exasperated at him, shamelessly smacked him on the head with her notepad. As hard as she could.

"OWW! What was that for?" was the boy's instant reply.

"Would you just _shut up_ for a moment?"

There was something in her eyes that made her look so much like her mother when she was angry that Roy stiffened for a moment. Avoiding her eyes, he pouted while putting his hands into his pockets.

"I was talking to myself. I mean, I got rejected! Again!" he whined. "'I'm afraid you're too young. I was looking for someone more… _adult_, y'see.' Bullshit! He had that baby-faced guy answer the door- he was the same age as I!"

"That Justin guy was two years older than you, Roy-boy."

"Still! He could've given a less insulting excuse- or saying he didn't want another apprentice right away instead of mimicking interest until I told him how old I was." The boy now looked plain disappointed. "How many people left on the list, Kathy?"

"None. I'm sorry."

Roy averted his gaze on the ground, the taste of bitterness slowly making its way into his mouth. Worst thing was that none of them had doubted his talent. Most even seemed impressed, but it was always the same story: wanted to teach to an adult, already had an apprentice, didn't want an apprentice, or were just plainly uninterested at the idea of having a twelve years old wandering around the house. Tim, who accompanied them this time, put his hand on his shoulder as an attempt to give him some comfort.

"I'm afraid we'll have to go now, kids," he said with a sorry smile. "Chris is expecting us in half an hour or so."

"Speaking of the devil…" Katarina mused while pointing something, or rather someone, who was rapidly making her way towards them.

"Have your research been any useful?" she asked from afar. "… Nah, never mind; your faces speak for yourselves. I just got a new name to put on the list. Roy-boy, come with me; Tim and Kathy, you can head back home."

"Where are you going to?" asked the man above his shoulder.

"Eildenbourgh!" she shouted back without even taking the time to turn around and wave goodbye.

Without any more explanation, she leaved, pulling Roy her way. Even though it all happened way too fast for any of them to analyze the situation, a sparkle of hope had lightened up the boy's expression. After a moment of silence, an intrigued frown made its way to Tim's face as he turned to Katarina.

"Say, Kathy. Isn't Eildenbourgh the small town ten kilometers north of here?"

* * *

"Theeeeeeeeeeeeeeere we are," smirked Madame Christmas, slightly pushing her nephew in front of her. "200, John-Lister Street, Eildenbourgh."

As they made their way into the alley, Roy considered the house with a clearly unimpressed stare. Not only did it look neglected, it was purely decrepit. The yellowish grass grew in wild bushes every here and there, the roof needed to be repaired and the main façade looked like it hadn't been taken care of for ages. The 200 held to it in an awkward manner, threatening to fall at any moment.

"Hum, Aunt Chris, are you sure we are at the right place?"

"I am absolutely, one hundred percent sure, Roy-boy," she said, now having to insist in order to keep him walking. "'There lives a scientist of genius, suspected to have developed a way to control fire through alchemy,' he said. And believe me, my sources never fail."

Her last sentence caught Roy's attention. As far as he could remember, he had always had some kind of fascination for fire, and had been deeply disappointed upon realizing that it had yet to be mastered. Was it possible? Christmas knocked on the door before he could get out of his reverie.

"I'm answering!" said a muffled, but oddly familiar voice from the inside of the house. A few seconds later, a blonde haired head popped from the door's frame, looking slightly annoyed. "No, I already told you we don't want to subscribe to your magazine, whatever the offers are. Now would you please stop-"

The girl stopped in mid-sentence as her eyes fell on the equally incredulous face of Roy Mustang.

"Is your father here? I'd like to talk to him. My nephew would be interested in becoming his apprentice."

For a moment, it seemed like time froze. Everybody stayed silent, while for an unknown reason onyx and amber eyes stared without daring to speak. Finally, Madame Christmas, getting annoyed, shook the boy's shoulder until he moved a little.

"Why don't you introduce yourself, Roy-boy? Didn't I teach you how to be a pleasant man already?"

But Roy Mustang couldn't speak, for right now, Riza Hawkeye stood before him once again under the most unexpected circumstances.

* * *

**Sooooooow there it was, chaps. Remember, if you want your opinion taken into account, _review~_! I cannot consider what I don't know about. Wishing you enjoyed it, had a great Christmas and will have an amazing new year,**

**- LilDemonWarrior**


	7. Too Good To Be True

**DISCLAIMER: If you're searching for the one who owns FMA, I suggest you to pay her a visit in Japan.**

**Author's note:**

**Special thanks to cutebutdeadlyalchemist -hope I got your name right- for the review on previous chapter! **

**Here finally is chapter seven... Took me forever, I know (one month approximatively in fact), but I've been so damn busy with school lately taht I don't know how I've managed it. Even now I should be studying chemistry or putting the final note to my (other) story... All that business will end in another month though, as I'll be handing my project. Then I shall be able to put as much effort as I'd like into this.**

**As for the chapter in itself, it's a tad longer that the others, but I like it that way. It's never as good as it sounded in my mind, but oh well, I guess it does that to everybody. Enjoy- and please remember to tell me your thoughts about it! It gives extra-motivation, I guarantee.**

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN : TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE**

"I _swear_. You should've seen that," managed to pronounce Madame Mustang despite her smiling so much it hurt.

Katarina Mustang was now laughing so hard that she was bent in two, tears coming up to her eyes. Even Tim had turned around so he could hide the smirk he was trying to retain. The only one who absolutely didn't feel like cracking up was Roy, arms folded and an uncharacteristic pink flush across his cheeks.

"Stop it. I-it's not even close to be funny," he mumbled. "I mean, I was caught off guard, it doesn't count. And besides-"

"Suuuuuuure." His aunt waved off the excuse, looking pretty much satisfied with the effect she was causing. "If I had known that girl had such an effect on you, I would have brought you there sooner- just for the sake of starring at your wonderfully lost in thought face."

She then mimicked the expression he had back on the Hawkeye's doorstep, mouth half-open and the most hilarious dumbfounded frown Amestris had ever seen.

"… But aside from this incident, did anything interesting happen back there? I mean, you probably didn't go all the way to Eildenbourgh just to make fun of your favourite nephew's facial expressions…" Tim proposed as a change of subject, much to the said nephew's delight. Roy guessed it was a compromise for the smirk he was trying to hide with all his will.

"Oh, right, something did happen. Our little Roy-boy would love to have the opportunity to tell the whole story himself, wouldn't he?"

The child cleared his throat, glad that he would be able to get the attention off his meaningless shock from earlier. Folding his arms so he could get some composure, he raised his head to look at the ceiling and began his narration.

* * *

"Riza? Do you know these people?"

The sudden arrival of man in the doorstep got time back on its track. Riza blinked a couple of times before looking at her father sheepishly, not sure about what she was supposed to say. Madame Christmas gave her nephew a gentle push on the back. The boy, who had yet to recover from his shock, gave a funny looking jerk before averting his gaze to the tall man nervously. A carefully measured smile on her lips, Christmas decided it was about time to break the ice.

"I presume that you are Berthold Hawkeye, also known as the one who can master fire alchemy. Am I correct?"

"Whatever your sources are, your presumptions are indeed correct, madam." Despite is calm and composed tone, the frown he gave showed that he wasn't sure if he could thrust those strangers.

"I have heard great rumours about you, and therefore was wondering if we could have a word. See…" she said while giving Roy a sideways glance so he knew he was supposed to say something.

"Oh. Huh, glad to meet you, Mister Hawkeye," the boy managed to say. He bowed his head a little in a respectful manner. "My name is Roy Mustang, and she's my aunt, Madame Christmas. I have come here in order to ask you if I could become your apprentice."

An uneasy silence followed, during which Hawkeye carefully studied the young man from head to toe. Roy nervously gulped a couple more times than necessary, trying to look as unimpressed and confident as possible. It felt like every single part of himself, including his thoughts, were coldly analyzed, something he didn't quite appreciate. The alchemist blinked and averted his gaze to his daughter. For a moment he looked like he was about to say something, but he shut his mouth and sighed instead.

"Alright. You may come in. I shall consider your proposition." The man turned around and disappeared into the house. "Riza, if you'd be as kind as showing them the way…"

In a matter of minutes, all of them but Hawkeye sat in a small yet confortable enough dining room. The wooden furniture gave it a warm atmosphere, incredibly contrasting with the outside look of the residence.

"Well, for sure I didn't except that," muttered the boy, allowing his hand to caress the wood grain of the table.

"That is because you give appearances too much importance," claimed a harsh voice from behind.

Roy jerked as if a bolt of electricity had gone through his spine. He turned around upon hearing a dry laugh accompanying his reaction, curious to know where the alchemist had gone before joining them.

"He ruined the outside façade of the house in order to keep unwanted visitors away," the blonde girl explained while staring at her feet.

"A strategy that sometimes fails, apparently. You may take a seat," mused her father before sitting on a rocking chair set apart from the table along with a small desk covered in papers. He joined his hands before his face, continuing his careful study of the visitors. "I am not completely against the idea of having an apprentice, but I am yet unsure if this boy can fill the task. Have you studied alchemy before, Roy?"

"Yes, sir," he responded a bit too nervously for his taste. "I more or less master its basics, but that's about it."

"Hmmm. I see. And why would you want to learn anything more about it?"

"So I can help others with it, of course. Isn't alchemy the art and science of the people, created and used in order to help them?" His voice wasn't shaking anymore, nor was his tone hesitant.

The man nodded. "Tell me, boy, where to you live?"

"I'm from East City, sir."

"Surely you did not intend the boy to go all the way to Eildenbourgh daily just in order to get some lessons," he pointed out, his eyes going to Madame Christmas. "Do you intend to let him live here?"

"It was the idea. "

"As I said earlier, I am not refusing to teach to your nephew, but neither am I convinced. Since I have been refusing the State licence for the past few years, we," –he stopped his gaze on Riza for a split-second- "are a bit short on money. An apprentice requires several hours of formation per week. I can sacrifice some time that would normally be reserved for my research, but if he is also going to live here, then I am afraid I could not afford it."

"If money is a concern, then of course I will be willing to pay you more than enough to cover the precious time you'll take to form Roy. It'll only make it easier for you to make ends meet."

Hawkeye nodded once again.

"I shall then consider it more seriously."

He pondered for a moment, lost in thought, before speaking up again.

"This leads me to my last question. Will the boy be able to keep up with school if I allow him back there earlier two times a week for supplementary lessons along with those I will already teach him daily?"

"He has proved to be able to manage himself more than once before."

Hawkeye nodded one last time. "Then you may bring him over next Wednesday for a two week trial. If he succeeds, I will teach him all I know about alchemy. We will talk about the fees later."

The man got up and walked to the window, turning his back to all.

"Riza, would you please show them the way out? Just in case they have already forgotten it."

"Follow me," the girl invited as she left the room.

* * *

"Wow," said Katarina. "Just- wow. So you're really going to be an apprentice? I mean… no jokes?"

"Yeah, that's the point. If I get through the trial, that is."

"Hey, it can't be that bad," offered Tim. "I'm sure finding the master itself was a much harder task–and see, we did!"

"I guess." He gave a shrug as he said so, in order for him to look like he wasn't half nervous about it.

Chris chose this very moment to take a much uncharacteristic motherly frown while looking at her only and favourite nephew. She got up and clapped in her hands, making everybody but Tim, who followed her movements by the corner of the eye, jump in surprise.

"If you really want to be able to stand whatever it is, though, you need to get some rest first. Curfew time, young man."

"That's unfair! Why can Katarina stay up and not me?"

"That's 'cause I'm older than you, shrimp," slipped the girl with a sufficient smirk on her face.

"It also applies to you, young girl. It's late enough and you have some very important State exam tomorrow."

Roy allowed himself a snigger while he got to his room. He waited a bit on the doorstep in order to hush a: "That's what you get for boasting" before closing the door. He could've sworn Katarina answered something back. He heard something considering him, Tim, her mother, a conspiracy and a vast repertory of carefully chosen swear words.

* * *

"Eildenbourgh station," announced a clear voice as the train stopped.

Roy jolted up to his feet, hitting his head on the luggage rack as he did so. Madame Christmas shot him a funny look before standing up herself, as calm as one could be.

"Jittery, are we?"

The boy didn't even bother to answer and focussed on recollecting his suitcase. He had not realized how much his world was going to change before only a few minutes ago, as he stood waving to Katarina and Tim. When he started to think about the two weeks –and maybe more if he did succeed the test- he was going to spend far away from home, it almost felt like a farewell. He did intend to pass the trial, though. He haven't been reread all his alchemy books again and again in the past week just for the sake of it.

"I don't know how much longer you feel like staring through the window, Roy-boy, but you'd better get off if you don't want to spend the next two weeks trying to find your way back home," mocked Madame Christmas, the hint of a smirk on her lips. He hurried out of the cabin without a word.

His eyes scanned through the small crowd gathered at the station, trying to catch a glimpse of his master's –how the word sounded delightful to his ears- face. Ultimately, though, the only person he was able to recognize was Riza, looking at his nervous face with what he could swear was hardly confined amusement.

"Thank you for coming along, Madame," she told Christmas, "but your presence is not required anymore. You can still come along, but since the arrangement has already been made..."

"Ah, I shall be going, then. Thanks for taking care of the boy, Miss Hawkeye."

Christmas then left with barely more than a goodbye for her nephew. Roy swallowed hard. Obviously, things had been said behind his back, and he had no single clue what it was. It surely didn't help the butterflies happily flying in his stomach.

"Sorry, but we'll have to walk home. My father was busy, so he sent me instead."

The girl's voice awoke him from his reverie.

"No problem," he assured as he followed her through the village's streets. He cleared his throat after a while, trying to ease the atmosphere. "Well, I certainly wasn't excepting to meet you again as your father's apprentice."

She shot him a glance. "You are not his apprentice yet."

"No, but… huh, never mind, alright?" He pouted and looked away. Was everybody against him?

"It's not that I'm against it," she said as if reading his thoughts. "But after seeing the previous one running away with tears in his eyes after only one week, I hardly see how you could make it up…"

"Greaaat."

"… if I remember well, he was begging to his mom, too. But I'm not entirely sure… _She_ is sure to remember though. 'Said he was never the same again."

A chill ran up Roy's back as he stiffened, horrified. Was alchemy training _that_ hard? He had to stop walking so he could deposit his suitcase on the ground and wipe his moist hands against his clothes. 'Have a little more confidence,' he tried to encourage himself. 'It can't be that bad, the guy was nothing more than a filthy coward… nothing much to be afraid of…'

It took him a good five minutes before gathering enough courage to look away from his feet. Only then did he saw what probably was the widest grin Riza's face could bear.

"Oh well... guess I'd better tell you if you are to keep making that face. Nobody has ever asked to become my father's apprentice. He only wanted me to tell you that so he could see how you deal with pressure."

This time, she had to bit her lip in order not that laugh at his grotesque expression.

* * *

"… Riza? Are you alright?"

Berthold Hawkeye actually sounded _concerned_ as he looked down at his daughter, standing on the doorstep with the corner of her lips irresistibly curving into a smile. His eyes from her to the boy standing at her side, his own mouth twisted down to contrast the girl's expression. Passing a hand through his hair, he himself couldn't help but to let an amused smirk appear on his face. Following the lack of answered, the alchemist ended up shrugging off his interrogation. One doesn't question a miracle.

"Well, well, if it isn't young Mustang here! Enjoyed your trip?"

It took Roy all his self-control to answer a carefully measured: "Yes, sir."

"Good, especially since your stay might not be as enjoyable starting now. Let's proceed to the trial without any further ago, shall we?" Hawkeye turned around, disappearing in the corridor. "Grab your most comfortable clothes and meet me outside in five minutes."

Looking down at Riza in order to try to get some encouragement only left him even more clueless: she stood there frozen, a confused frown on her face. Her amber eyes clanged desperately at Roy as if she wasn't sure whether she'd see him again or not. She apparently had no idea of what was going on.

"Great," he mumbled again, resigned to meet his fate.

When he walked to Mr. Hawkeye later, shorts and tee-shirt and sweater –just in case, Riza had said in a low voice that could only mean she knew what she was talking about- on, he was surprised to discover that whatever trial he was going to go through clearly didn't include his teacher even moving his pinkie. He waited for him in a suit as suitable as a suit can be, scribbling on a piece of paper he hid upon seeing him.

"We are going to take a walk," the man calmly announced. "In the meantime, I'd like you to answer a few of my questions in order for me to evaluate your level in alchemy… no, there's no need to walk towards the street, boy. We're heading into the woods."

He had said so while casually pointing the dark, uninviting forest that spread from the back of his yard to clearly far enough to get lost.

"First, let me ask you: what is the basic form that is used in every alchemic transmutation to symbolize both the deconstruction and reconstruction of matter as a cycle?"

* * *

"… and the three steps of transmutation being?"

"Acknowledging, destructing and reconstructing."

"Wasn't it more something like: understanding, deconstructing and reconstructing matter?"

"Aren't those synonyms?" asked Roy, his voice a little shaky to have spoken so much.

"One might say, but I personally prefer the later formulation," his master pondered before abruptly announcing: "Here. We have arrived."

"Arrived where, sir?"

For the first time in half an hour, the boy raised his head to take a look at their surroundings: they had reached a dream-like clearing, with a clear watercourse dividing it in too. Only when stepping in to get a better view did he noticed the ground was covered in ashes. He shrieked in surprise, stepping back to wipe his soles on the grass.

"To the place where you will begin your formation, if you really want to know. You have two weeks."

Roy frowned before meeting his master's gaze.

"Yeah, I already know that, but-"

"During those two weeks, you'll have to find the answer to the following question: 'How does fire meets and perfectly matches the very fundament of alchemy?' It also implies you won't be leaving here unless I allow you too. Do not worry; I will come to check out on you every now and then, even if you don't notice me."

The kid was now rendered speechless, looking up at his master to try to get any clue that this whole situation was another made-up story to see how well he resisted to pressure. He ended up being very disappointed.

"Oh, I almost forgot: you may take this knife. And this stone too. Who knows, it might help you. Remember not to stray too far away from this spot or chances are I'll never be able to retrieve you. That is all."

Before Roy could make any objection, he felt something hit his head every so softly; then, heavier than a stone, his felt himself sink to his knees and his whole body collapse against the soil. Unable to make the slightest movement, he drifted to sleep with the sounds of the footsteps that could have showed his the way home fading away in the distance.

* * *

**Hope ya'll liked it! See you next time- and remember to review!**

**- LilDemonWarrior**


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